


It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

by enigmaticblue



Series: Dean Winchester, Agent of SHIELD [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruce Is a Good Bro, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/M, Family Feels, Hawkguy, M/M, Sam-Centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 19:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5597743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When asked where he was when SHIELD fell, Dean would say, “In a cage, with my brother.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt, “cages.” This is not entirely compliant with SHIELD, as was probably obvious from the last fic, but I think I’ve tweaked things enough to make sense. I hope. Also, this is completely non-compliant with Clint’s character in Age of Ultron. I much prefer Fraction’s version. Minor spoilers for the entire run of Hawkeye.

The door swings open and Sam offers a cautious smile. “Hey, Dean.”

 

“Hey, man,” Dean replies, waving him inside. “Good to see you.”

 

Sam isn’t sure that they’re quite at the hugging stage yet, but once Dean closes the door, he pulls Sam in for a rib-cracking embrace and a couple of manly pats on the back.

 

“Sorry,” Dean says, “I have a thing about talking out in the open.”

 

It’s one of the ways that Sam thinks Dean has changed, little things like not wanting to stand in the hallway to talk, in a kind of watchfulness with which he surveys his environment.

 

Sam remembers Dean as a smooth-talking hustler, always ready for a fight or with a quip.

 

But when he’d seen Dean on TV, taking a bullet for a man he didn’t immediately recognize, and more recently, taking charge of a scene in New York, he seems to be a completely different person.

 

Right now, though, Dean is clearly off-duty, wearing faded jeans and a green Henley, his feet bare on the scarred wood floor of his apartment.

 

“I thought you might have to work,” Sam says.

 

Dean appears a little sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not really. The Avengers really only need a liaison when something big is going down, otherwise, they’re mostly doing their own thing. I still provide security for Tony and Bruce, and Clint and I will get called out together, but SHIELD has been sending Steve and Natasha out on other missions recently.”

 

Sam frowns. “So, where does that leave you?”

 

If anything, Dean grows even more uncomfortable. “Well, mostly running ops, figuring out tactical advantages, leading teams in the field. You know.”

 

Sam doesn’t understand half of that, but from Dean’s expression, it’s a very big deal. “They promoted you?” he hazards.

 

“Something like that. They kind of had to after the last big thing,” Dean admits. “So, how long are you staying?”

 

Sam shrugs. “I don’t have any jobs lined up right now. If Bobby calls, I may have to take off, but I think I can hang out for a few days if you’re not busy.”

 

Dean brightens. “I can swing that. I’ve got plenty of leave on the books, and HR gets growly if you let it build up too far.”

 

Sam smiles. “You did say you’d show me the sights.”

 

“I can probably get you into the Tower,” Dean offers hesitantly. “If you want. I’m not sure what Tony and Bruce are doing, but I’d like you to meet them.”

 

“Sounds good,” Sam replies.

 

The thing is, Sam knows that a lot of the bitterness between them can be laid at his door. He’d just been a kid when Dean all but disappeared, but even then he should have known that Dean wouldn’t willingly abandon him.

 

He could have asked more questions when Dean came around Bobby’s again, about why he would have joined the Army instead of the family business. He could have paid more attention to the news, which would have given him a few clues about why Dean wouldn’t have been able to make it home for their dad’s funeral.

 

In truth, Sam had been jealous that Dean got out of the life and away from their dad, and Sam hadn’t. He hadn’t gone to college, or done any of the things he’d promised himself he would do. Sam had always figured that of the two of them, _he’d_ be the one to get out.

 

And here they are—Sam’s still a hunter, just like their old man, and Dean works for a secret government agency and liaises with superheroes.

 

Sam wants to reconnect, and to have a relationship with his brother, but there are a lot of years of hurt between them, and he knows that a weekend together is just one small step in the right direction.

 

“You hungry?” Dean asks. “There’s a bar a few blocks away. It looks like a hole, but they have great burgers.”

 

Sam smiles. “I could eat.”

 

Dean locks up after them, and they take the stairs, Dean calling out greetings to a couple of his neighbors.

 

“Do you know all of your neighbors?” Sam asks, a little surprised.

 

Dean looks sheepish again. “I was never really in one place long enough to put down roots, but Clint kind of owns the building, and between the two of us we’ve pretty much chased off the tracksuit mafia.”

 

Sam blinks. “The what?”

 

“Russian guys looking to throw out the current tenants to build luxury condos,” Dean explains briefly. “There’s a real problem with affordable housing in this area of the city, and they were doing a shitty thing.”

 

“I know New York is expensive, but I thought that was just something you put up with to live here,” Sam says, and is a little surprised when Dean starts talking about gentrification and living wages, and urban sprawl.

 

It’s a whole new side to Dean that surprises Sam, and Sam doesn’t know much about those topics anyway. He tries to stay current, but when he reads the paper, he’s looking for potential hunts, not food deserts.

 

“Sorry, man,” Dean says, stopping himself. “This is probably boring.”

 

Sam shakes his head. “No, it’s just—surprising.”

 

Dean hesitates. “It was a little different with the Army. They say jump, you ask how high, but I learned with spec ops that it was important to stay on top of current events. When you do get sent in, you have a better idea of what’s going on, and what you can expect, you know?”

 

“And now?” Sam asks.

 

“Better idea of where the Avengers might be needed, or where my next mission is going to be, and how bloody it’ll get,” Dean replies evenly. “It’s my friends who are caught in the middle, like the other tenants in my building. Those big events that seem so far away have ripple effects that can hurt us all.”

 

Sam had never really thought about it. “I’m mostly looking for my next mission,” he admits.

 

“Nothing wrong with that,” Dean says easily. “But they pay me to look at the big picture and read the full scope of the problem. So, that’s what I do.”

 

“Do you enjoy it?” Sam asks.

 

“I think I’m helping people,” Dean replies. “And maybe I’ll help save the world before my time is up.”

 

Sam thinks back to Dean’s flippant comment about getting shot, how one bullet hole isn’t that bad, and he wants to ask how many times Dean’s had a brush with death, but he doesn’t.

 

He’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know.

 

The sound of a klaxon is loud, and Sam flinches before he realizes that it’s Dean’s phone. “Hang on, I have to take this,” Dean says. “Winchester.”

 

Sam steers them through the busy sidewalk up against the side of a building, out of the way of traffic.

 

“I think you’re going to have to repeat that,” Dean says, his voice low and dangerous. There’s a pause. “No, no way in hell. I’m not arresting Captain _fucking_ America.”

 

He hangs up and quickly dials another number. “Shit, shit, shit,” he chants. “Come on, Nat, pick up.” She must not answer, because Dean says quickly, “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I expect a phone call. You know the number. I just got word that SHIELD put Steve on a Most Wanted list.”

 

When Dean hangs up, he glances at Sam apologetically. “Look, I have no idea what’s going down, but it’s big. Would it be okay if we went back to my place and ordered a couple of pizzas so I could make some calls?”

 

“Yeah, man, whatever you need,” Sam agrees, mostly because he’s getting to see another side of Dean, and he wants to get to know the man he is now.

 

Dean is back on the phone as they head towards his apartment. “Hey, Bruce, it’s Dean. I don’t know what’s going on, but SHIELD’s issued an arrest warrant for Steve, so it’s big. I’ve got my brother with me, but we might be swinging by the Tower later if things get hairy. Call me when you get this.”

 

Sam gives him a questioning look. “Bruce?”

 

“He’s sometimes easier to get ahold of,” Dean replies absently. “Besides, he keeps a fairly level head.”

 

Sam raises his eyebrows. “Bruce Banner? The guy who turns into the Hulk?”

 

“Well, you know, except when he doesn’t,” Dean says with a rueful grin. “And let’s hope we don’t need him, because you don’t want to know what kind of paperwork is involved when he has a transformation.”

 

Sam hears tires squeal behind him, and he half-turns, his hand going for the gun he _isn’t_ carrying right now.

 

Dean just manages to pull his semi-automatic when the dart hits him in the side of the neck. “Shit,” he mutters. “Sammy, run.”

 

There’s no way that Sam would run, but he doesn’t get to choose, because he gets hit a second later, once in the thigh, once in the shoulder. The world immediately starts to get blurry, and Sam goes down on one knee.

 

“Is he SHIELD?” Sam hears a man asks.

 

“He was with Winchester, and they looked pretty chummy,” another voice replies. “Take him. If nothing else, he can be leverage.”

 

And then Sam is out.

 

~~~~~

 

When he wakes up, he’s in what seems to be a cage in some kind of warehouse, half-curled up next to Dean, who’s still unconscious. They’re on bare concrete with the cage bolted into the floor. The cage itself seems to be made out of solid steel bars, welded together, to form a six by six foot square that’s only about four feet tall.

 

Sam is pretty sure it was originally designed to hold some kind of animal, maybe a large dog, not two men. He tries shaking one side, but there’s no give at all, and the door is secured with some kind of combination lock.

 

“Dean,” he whispers, having no idea if there’s anyone around. “Dean, wake up.”

 

Dean groans. “Fuck.”

 

“Yeah, or something,” Sam says. “Come on, man.”

 

Dean sits up slowly and looks around, his dazed expression quickly clearing and becoming more calculating. “This is not good.”

 

“You could say that.”

 

Sam doesn’t recognize the man who comes strolling up to the cage, but Dean clearly does. “Davison, you asshole. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

 

“I’m ushering in a new world order,” Davison replies with a smile. He’s a little on the short side with a pale complexion, blue eyes, and dark hair. He’s wearing all black—black sweater, black cargo pants, black combat boots, and his eyes are malicious. “I have orders to try and turn you, but I think I might skip straight to the killing part.”

 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dean demands. “Does this have anything to do with the arrest warrant out for Rogers?”

 

Davison smiles. “You know, people say you’re just another pretty face, but you aren’t as stupid as you look. Rogers is in the way, as are Stark and Banner. We know you warned them, but we’re still planning on taking them out with the first wave.”

 

“Who do you work for?” Dean asks, and there’s something terrible in his voice, some emotion that Sam can’t readily identify but knows is bad.

 

Davison smiles. “I work for SHIELD, of course. You’re the one who doesn’t know who you’re working for.”

 

“ _Who do you work for_?” Dean snarls.

 

And Davison clicks his heels together and raises his arm in what looks like a Nazi salute. “Hail Hydra!” he says, smirking, and then turns to leave. “I’ll let that settle in, and I’ll be sure to update you on our progress.”

 

Sam is now as confused as hell, but Dean is white as a sheet, looking completely gutted. “Dean? What was he talking about? What’s the plan?”

 

“We have to get out of here,” Dean says dully, scrubbing his hands over his face. “If it were someone else, with some other agency, I might still have what I needed, but it’s Davison, so…”

 

Dean isn’t really making much sense, but Sam sits back and watches as Dean thoroughly sorts through his pockets. Sam does the same, although he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have anything on him that would help get them out of this mess.

 

“They took my watch, my phone, by backup knives,” Dean is saying as he takes an inventory. “Fuck, he even took the detonator.”

 

The idea that Dean even had a detonator on him at some point amuses Sam in a way. “Okay, but Dean, what did he mean? What does he want?”

 

“I don’t know,” Dean admits, slumping back against the bars of the cage. “Maybe to use my access to the Tower? As the Avengers’ liaison, I can get in and out the way most people can’t. If he was serious about taking out Bruce and Tony, and he can’t get to them any other way, he’d probably need me, especially since they know something is up.”

 

Dean looks at Sam, and there’s both a steely determination and a quiet rage in his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

 

Sam hesitates. “Yes, I do.”

 

“Then trust me when I tell you that if Davison isn’t just fucking with my head, and Hydra has infiltrated SHIELD, it’s really, really bad, and I cannot give him what he wants, no matter what he threatens to do,” Dean says.

 

Slowly, what Dean is saying sinks in. Even if they threaten to kill Sam, or torture him, Dean will not give in.

 

Sam swallows hard. “I get it.”

 

“There are some things that are worth the sacrifice,” Dean says quietly. “Our best bet, if we can’t get out of here on our own, is rescue. Otherwise, we’ll have to hope he gets impatient, but he was a sick fucker at the Academy, and he’s a sick fucker now. I guess I know why.”

 

“What’s Hydra?” Sam asks quietly.

 

Dean sighs. “Secret organization that was nominally related to the Nazis during World War II, although they were never really Nazis. They wanted power, and the Nazis were a convenient way to get that power. In a way, they’re responsible for the existence of Captain America. The Allies knew they were conducting human experiments to create the perfect super soldier, and we wanted to get there first.”

 

“So, everybody thought that Hydra was gone?” Sam asks.

 

“We had no reason to believe otherwise,” Dean replies. “Shit, fuck.”

 

Something dawns on Sam just then. “Dean, how deep does this go? I mean, if they can arrest Captain America…”

 

“It means we can’t trust anybody, except maybe the Avengers,” Dean looks stricken. “If they got…” He falls silent, and he closes his eyes, and Sam realizes that his brother’s world has just collapsed around him.

 

Sam wonders how many times Dean has had to rebuild, and how many more blows he can conceivably take. “Whatever you need from me,” Sam promises.

 

Dean takes a deep breath. “Okay, we need to get out of here. I doubt Davison’s going to leave us in here for very long.”

 

It turns out that Dean’s wrong about that. Either of them might have managed to open the combination lock, but it turns out that Davison or one of his men had put some kind of glue inside, so it can’t be opened without a bolt cutter, which they don’t have.

 

Night had fallen while they were unconscious, but someone left enough of the overhead lights on to see. The temperature is dropping, and Sam shivers.

 

“Come here,” Dean says. “We might as well huddle for warmth.”

 

“What are you going to do?” Sam asks, scooting closer. “When we get out of here, I mean.”

 

Dean is quiet for a long moment, and then he says, “I don’t know, Sammy. I guess it depends on just how deep the rot goes, and whether anything can be salvaged.”

 

They huddle together, shivering and silent after that. Sam knows he should be freaking out, but there’s something strangely comforting about facing this situation with Dean by his side. Right now, all those years of hurt don’t matter quite as much.

 

The night passes, and the sun rises, warming the air slightly. There’s still no sign of their captor, and Sam thinks that maybe something happened to him. At least if they’re stuck here alone, there’s a chance that someone will come looking for Dean and find them.

 

Sam is hungry and thirsty and exhausted, but he can live with the discomfort, at least for a while.

 

Davison strides in, dashing Sam’s hopes, sometime midafternoon. “All right, it looks like we’re going to need you after all, Winchester. Cooperate, and maybe we don’t kill your brother.”

 

There’s not enough room to stand, but Sam can feel Dean straighten his shoulders. “No.”

 

Davison rolls his eyes. “I’m not fucking around. Help me, or I pull your brother out of the cage and start taking him to pieces in front of you. If you cooperate, I’ll release him. He doesn’t have to be involved.”

 

“I’m already involved,” Sam replies. “So, go ahead and do your worst.”

 

Davison sneers. “My pleasure. Apparently, martyrdom runs in the family.”

 

Sam hears shouts from another part of the warehouse, and Davison turns. “What now?” he snarls. “I swear, they gave me the most incompetent bunch of assholes.”

 

There are more shouts, and then Davison sprouts an arrow in his shoulder.

 

“Anybody is incompetent when compared to the Avengers,” Dean says with a smirk as Davison falls.

 

Sam isn’t quite sure what’s going on, but a man with dark, curly hair appears in front of the cage, and he’s not what Sam pictured when he thought about possible rescue. “Hey, Dean. It looks like you got yourself in a little bit of a pickle.”

 

“It’s good to see you, doc,” Dean replies. “Have you met my brother?”

 

“Sam, right?” the man says absently. “Bruce Banner. Looks like we’re going to need a little something more for this. Tony?”

 

Sam catches sight of the earwig, which explains why he doesn’t hear the reply.

 

“Okay, guys,” Bruce says. “Tony says he and Clint are finishing the cleanup. Two minutes. You hurt? You doing okay?”

 

“Hungry, thirsty, and in desperate need of the head,” Dean replies. “But Davison was just getting to the torture part of the program when you arrived.”

 

Bruce grimaces. “Just in the nick of time, huh? Thanks for the heads up, by the way. Last we heard, Tony and I were on the list of people to get taken out first.”

 

“Taken out by what?” Sam asks, bewildered. “You’re the Hulk!”

 

Bruce smiles. “Sometimes, and this is not the time to talk about it. Clint is moving into the Tower for the time being until we’re sure your place is secure. You and Sam are welcome.”

 

Dean glances at Sam. “I know I told you I’d take you by the Tower, but this isn’t what you signed up for.”

 

There’s absolutely no way that Sam is going to bail now. “No, I’m with you. Someone has to watch your back while you figure out what’s going on.”

 

Dean and Bruce exchange a look that Sam can’t read, and a quick smile passes over Bruce’s face. “We’ll figure it out together, Dean. Whatever happens.”

 

“Thanks, doc,” Dean murmurs.

 

Sam can’t help but notice how Dean sags a bit at that, like he can finally relax, and he takes note.

 

“You know, Agent Winchester, I thought I told you that you weren’t allowed to party without me.”

 

Sam isn’t sure he keeps the awe off his face as _Iron Man_ lands in front of the cage.

 

“Thanks for gate crashing,” Dean replies, amusement creeping into his voice. “I always knew that Davison was a dick, but he took it to a whole new level today.”

 

“You’re telling me,” Iron Man replies in a dark tone. “Okay, move back.”

 

He and Dean crowd back as much as they can, and Iron Man fires on the lock. The door swings open a second later, and Dean pushes Sam out first.

 

Sam stretches gratefully, cramped muscles releasing. Iron Man pushes up his faceplate as Dean crawls out. “You must be the brother,” he says.

 

“Sam Winchester.” He glances at the gauntlet and wonders if he should offer to shake hands. “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Tony Stark,” the man replies, like he hasn’t graced the cover of nearly every magazine and front page of every newspaper. “It’s a pleasure.”

 

“Winchester!”

 

Sam turns to see a man in a purple hoodie, carrying a bow, come jogging up. “I always knew Davison was a dick, but Hydra? Glad to see you’re in one piece.”

 

“You too,” Dean replies. “Any close calls?”

 

“Not for me,” Clint says. “You know they say I’m the least important Avenger.”

 

“Beg to differ,” Dean counters. “You were in the nick of time, man.”

 

They pound each other on the back, and Dean says, “Barton, this is my brother, Sam. Sam, Clint Barton. We’ve worked a few jobs together.”

 

“Pleasure,” Sam says, feeling a little overwhelmed.

 

“Okay, let’s get you guys out of here,” Bruce says. “We’ve got everything you need at the Tower. Tony already sent security to your apartments to make sure no one had gone through them, and to get what you might need for tonight.”

 

“Thanks,” Dean says hoarsely. “I—thank you.”

 

“Hey, I told you once before that you were _our_ handler,” Stark says. “I’m not about to break in anybody new.”

 

Sam suddenly knows why Dean had been so adamant that Tony Stark wasn’t an asshole.

 

“Let’s get you guys home,” Bruce says. “There’s a hot meal and a bed with your name on it.”

 

~~~~~

 

Sam had never really thought he’d be invited to stay in Stark Tower by none other than Tony Stark. He uses the bathroom, drinks about a gallon of water, eats the sandwich that’s placed in front of him, and then falls into the bed Bruce directs him towards.

 

When he wakes up, Sam has no idea what time it is, or even what day it is. His cell phone had been lost, although he has a spare in the Impala, which he’d parked. Hopefully, it hasn’t been towed.

 

The room is dark, and so he doesn’t even have the angle of the sun or the quality of the light to give him a clue.

 

“Would you like a light, Mr. Winchester?”

 

“Huh?” Sam looks around wildly. “Who’s there?”

 

“I’m Jarvis, Mr. Stark’s personal assistant.” The opaque windows become transparent, and the forecast, temperature, and time appear on the glass. “You’ve been asleep nearly fifteen hours.”

 

“Thanks,” Sam says after a pause. “Is my brother awake?”

 

“Agent Winchester has been awake for two hours,” Jarvis replies. “He’s with Dr. Banner now.”

 

Sam thinks about a shower and decides that there’s really no choice. He needs one badly. It’s the nicest shower he’s ever been in, and he uses the bath products provided and pulls on clean clothes, since someone had helpfully put his bag at the foot of the bed.

 

He wanders out of his room and down the hall, listening for the sound of voices. He pauses when he hears Dean’s baritone rumble, and Bruce’s lighter voice.

 

“So, SHIELD is gone, then?” Dean asks.

 

“That’s what it looks like,” Bruce replies, his voice gentle. “But Dean, you know you have a place here. We’re still going to need you.”

 

“I’ve been working for Hydra!” Dean shouts. “How can you say that?”

 

Sam wants to go to him, to offer some kind of comfort, but he doesn’t feel that he has the right.

 

“No, you’ve been working for SHIELD,” Bruce says, his tone reasonable. “Hydra has been working inside SHIELD. Has there been a mission you didn’t feel good about? That you thought was doing more harm than good?”

 

There’s a long pause. “No. I would have refused the job if I’d believed that.”

 

“You’re a good man, Dean. As far up as this goes, they probably kept you out of a position to know what’s going on,” Bruce says. “You’re lucky they didn’t kill you outright. You know that.”

 

“Eavesdroppers never hear anything good.”

 

Sam jumps and turns around, looking down at Tony Stark, who’s a lot shorter than he expected. “Sorry.”

 

“Come on,” Stark says. “You deserve to know what’s going on, since you were caught up in the middle of it.”

 

Sam follows Stark out into the main living area, feeling a little foolish for having been caught listening in.

 

“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asks.

 

Sam nods. “I’m fine. What about you?”

 

Dean pastes on a smile. “Peachy. Looks like I’ll be taking a job with Stark Industries.”

 

Sam wants to push back, but he knows that he doesn’t have that right. They haven’t been back in touch that long, and Sam feels the distance again.

 

At the same time, though, he remembers what it felt like to have that distance disappear, to feel as though he had his brother back again. Sam knows that it’s going to take time, and maybe that cage had been the beginning.

 

“I’m sure you’ll be just as good at that as you were with SHIELD,” Sam says. “And at least you know you’re among friends.”

 

Dean glances at Bruce and smiles. “Yeah, I guess there’s that.”


End file.
